


Backup

by water_bby



Series: Derivation [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode: s01e17 Turn Turn Turn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1472458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/water_bby/pseuds/water_bby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson keeps secrets. Some, however, he doesn't need to keep alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backup

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "coming out (of the closet)" square for trope_bingo, round 3.

Others called Phil Coulson many things, but he thought of himself as primarily a keeper of secrets. Sometimes (often), secret-keeping required ferreting out secrets to keep. He could tell that the command staff at SHIELD were keeping a secret from him, as well as keeping him a secret from much of the organization. But he knew he'd figure it out, eventually, just like he'd figure out what happened during the gaps in his memory.

Today, though, he double-checked a calendar and then spent the afternoon perusing personnel files for his new team. Late in the afternoon, he did a quick search for diners in the city, counting down, as per his own protocol, to the ninth one on the results page. Phil had sat for the "experimental" brain scan, and he'd been told that the Life Model Decoy program was still in the planning stage, but he also had known Nick Fury for years. He wasn't sure if the memory gaps and the weirdness of the Tahiti memories were enough reason to suspect that his imprint had been used, but, most of the time, he would rather know than worry.

When Phil arrived at the diner for a late dinner, he was a bit relieved to not recognize anyone and a bit disappointed. He took a seat at a booth that allowed a good view of the room, ordered food, and prepared to stretch out his meal for a couple hours. An hour later, as he was planning to order a piece of pie and a coffee for dessert, Clint Barton walked in. Phil wouldn't have expected Barton to be in this section of the city (frankly, he wasn't certain Barton was in the city at all—surely he would have stopped by to see Phil once the latter had returned from Tahiti). Barton paused on his walk to the counter and then smiled at the waitress, nodded in Phil's direction and headed over to the booth.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Phil." Barton was smiling easily, as if there were a joke that Phil should have gotten.

"I wasn't aware I needed to run my restaurant list by you, Barton," he replied drily. It was apparently the wrong thing to say, however, because Barton's face closed. 

"You done?"

"Yes."

"Good, let's go, Coulson." And then Barton was smiling at the server, taking the check from her, and hustling Phil to the counter where Barton paid for his meal and for a pick-up order before herding him out. Natasha Romanov met them by a car and slid into the backseat with Phil after Barton's clipped, "I'm driving, Nat."

Phil wasn't sure what was going on. Barton and Romanov were level seven agents, so they had to know of his return even if the rest of the Avengers did not, but Barton's ease had entirely vanished, and Romanov was eyeing him the way she did interrogation subjects. And then she started asking questions. Phil pushed down the fear that he knew what was going on and answered as honestly as he could. It was easy enough; she asked about her recruitment to SHIELD, about ops they had run together, about favorite foods and movies and music. And then she asked a question he didn't have an answer for. "What were you feeling when you called me in after Pegasus collapsed?" He knew that he'd called her, he could even say why he'd called her beyond the obvious, but he had no memory of what he felt.

"I'm sorry, I think that's part of what I lost when I died."

In the driver's seat, Barton flinched.

Romanov simply nodded, though, and sat back while keeping a close eye on Phil. The relief he'd wanted to feel after this night seemed impossibly out of reach.

They eventually arrived at their destination, and Phil was once again being herded by his former teammates, this time toward an apartment door. Barton eased it open, slid Phil a quick glance, and asked loudly, "Do I get an explanation?"

Phil froze in the doorway. Sitting on the sofa, wearing his favorite sweatshirt, the one that had been lost in the destruction of the Battle of New York (or so he'd been told), was Phil Coulson. As he'd feared. As he'd expected.

The Phil in the sweatshirt took in the scene in the doorway and grimaced. "Yes, Clint, you'll get an explanation. Later. Could you and Natasha set dinner out?"

Romanov looked between the two of them. "LMD? Clone?"

"Later, Natasha. Please help Clint with dinner." The other Phil waved at the chair next to the sofa. "Would you like a beer? Anything to eat?"

Phil sat, shaking his head. He didn't think he should put anything else in his stomach. At this moment, he was worried about keeping what he had eaten down. Clint brushed his fingers across the back of the other Phil's neck as he left the room. Phil swallowed. 

"That's new."

"Yes. We...adjusted...our relationship while I was recovering from.... Well...." They sat in silence for a moment. "I'm sorry I didn't make it myself. I couldn't arrange to get off the Helicarrier in time, so I asked Clint to pick up dinner." Another moment. "How did Natasha figure it out?"

"I don't remember how it felt for Barton to be compromised. Well, I don't suppose I can remember, can I? The imprint would have been from before Pegasus. I remember going for the procedure." He stared at his...other self? Original? "Did you know?"

"Yeah, Phil," Barton drawled as he dropped onto the sofa by other Phil, placing two plates on the coffee table and grabbing a couple bottles from Romanov as she walked by with her own plate, "did you know?"

"No. I didn't."

"So now what?" Phil asked.

"I was told I'd been asking about FitzSimmons at New York HQ, when I haven't been there for nearly two years. Putting together a team?"

Phil nodded.

"So, we can call Nick and tell him we know, or we can part ways and forget we ever found out, or..."

Phil smiled. "Or we can use the secrets Nick thinks he's keeping for our own purposes."

Romanov smirked. Barton laughed. Other Phil smiled, too. And Phil decided that maybe finding out he wasn't the Phil Coulson who had taken a magic spear to the chest wasn't so bad. By the end of the night, they had a plan for staying in touch and a list of questions to be answered, and Phil finally felt good enough for a piece of pie.

That feeling of belonging somewhere had sustained him through his search for answers. They figured out pretty quickly that he wasn't an LMD, but the how and why for a clone remained unclear. Evidently, Nick had played it very, very close to the chest. And then SHIELD was falling apart, and the data dump had masked two short encrypted messages, both addressed to Phil Coulson, but each going to a different man.

Now, cooped up in a small house with what remained of his team, Phil remembered the night he had first met his "twin" fondly. Skye had managed to get her hands on a copy of his personnel report, and it had made for interesting reading. He was particularly fascinated by the handling of his death and recovery, which, when combined with his assignment to this team, had firmly placed a target on his back and had kept anyone from realizing there were now two Phil Coulsons. Phil was fairly certain that not even Maria knew about the cloning.

"AC? There's an SUV coming this way rather than going to the hanger," Skye called.

"Coming!" Phil called back, certain he knew whom it was but prepared to be wrong. He caught May's eye as he slid next to the back door. They were still uncomfortable with one another, but they could work together for the team. Today was not going to make her more comfortable—he was fairly certain May didn't know about the cloning, either.

There were three quick knocks on the door, followed by a second set of three, a set of four, and then another set of three. Thirteen had always been his favorite number. He pulled the door open to a Clint Barton who looked ready for a fight.

"Coulson. May. Is it clear?"

"Come in," Phil said, stepping on whatever May was saying. He was about to have backup he knew he could trust, and he wasn't in the mood to argue with her over who was allowed to know what. "We'll be in the kitchen. Lock the door behind you. May, get FitzSimmons; Skye, with me." This meant that the Bus was nearly ready to get back in the air, her SHIELD eagle washed away and replaced with a gleaming blue-black, the color he had told Nick, years and years ago now, they should use for their planes. If Nick had, somehow, survived, he'd recognize the color.

Phil Coulson might be a keeper of secrets, but he was also a teller of secrets, and it was time to tell this one. He put three cups of coffee on the table and sat down, his back to the doorway at the back of the house. He, after all, knew who was coming through that door.


End file.
